


The Way It Goes

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Mal [29]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal gets the flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way It Goes

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

"Trip. Trip."

The thin, reedy voice slowly punctured Trip's haze of sleep. His shoulder was shaken lightly.

"Trip. Wake up, please."

Trip made awakening noises to get Mal to stop pushing him, then stiffly rolled himself over. "What's wrong?" he croaked groggily, forcing his eyes to stay open.

Mal's expression was sorrowful in the dim light from the passing stars. "Trip, I don't feel good."

The engineer rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the sleep off. "What?" he asked dully, then rephrased, "I mean, _how_ don't you feel good?"

"My stomach hurts and I'm all achy and shivery and my throat is sore and my head feels funny," Mal rattled off.

He _did_ seem to be shivering, although he was bundled in blankets. Trip ordered his muscles to obey and gracelessly flopped a hand against Mal's forehead. "You're burnin' up, buddy," he noted.

"But I'm cold," Mal countered, curling up more.

Trip pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Hitting the cold deck plating with his bare feet seemed to jolt a little more life into him and he strained less to sound intelligible as he hit the comm button. "Tucker to Sickbay."

" _Phlox here, Commander_." The doctor's voice was unnaturally chipper for the hour. " _Is there a problem?_ "

"Um, yeah." Trip shook his head, brushing out the last of the cobwebs. "Sounds like Mal's got the flu."

"The _flu_? How horrible!" Mal commented in the background.

"I think I better bring him down," Trip added.

" _Certainly, Commander_ ," Phlox agreed. " _I shall be waiting_."

"Okay, come on, buddy," Trip said, leaning across the bed to drag Mal out.

"I don't want to go," Mal whined, rolling himself into a ball with the blankets wrapped protectively around him. Trip was reminded of the armadillos he had seen in Texas once.

"Mal, come on," Trip insisted. He started dragging the ball of Mal and blankets to the edge of the bed, envisioning himself rolling the lump down the hall to Sickbay like a great, dirty snowball.

"I'm not dirty!" Mal protested, voice muffled by the blankets. "I just don't feel good."

"And I'm tryin' to take care of you, buddy," Trip replied. "We gotta go see the doctor. Now come on."

Whimpering copiously, Trip finally coaxed Mal to his feet, still swathed in blankets. Together they left their quarters and padded down the quiet hallways, Mal leaning heavily on Trip. At last they hit Sickbay, which was far too brightly lit for Trip's taste, and Phlox ushered them over to a biobed.

Mal sat, shivering and miserable, while Phlox examined him and made note of his symptoms. Trip leaned, partially asleep but not comfortable enough to fall the rest of the way, while Mal clutched his hand.

"Excellent diagnosis, Commander," Phlox finally announced. Trip looked up blearily. "Mal is indeed infected with a strain of influenza."

"Oh, that sounds _awful_ ," Mal moaned. "I'm _infected_!"

Trip straightened up so Mal could wrap his arms around him for comfort. "How did he pick up the flu on a hermetically-sealed ship?" he wanted to know.

"Oh, such germs can lie dormant for months, even years, until they are introduced to a suitable environment," Phlox enthused, preparing a hypospray. "He might have picked it up from a piece of equipment, a cargo container—"

"I opened a new case of plasma coolant a couple days ago," Mal sniffled.

"Well, that might very well be the culprit," Phlox allowed, injecting Mal's neck.

"What'd you give him?" Trip asked, with a touch of suspicion.

"Something to reduce the severity of the symptoms," Phlox assured him. "Unfortunately the cures for influenza take some time to synthesize and have some unpleasant side effects," he went on. "They are only administered in life-threatening cases. Generally it's best to let the body heal on its own."

"If I'm infected, can't I just go to Decon, and use the squishy gel to be purified?" Mal asked hopefully.

Trip patted his arm as the doctor disabused Mal of that notion. "I'm afraid not, Mal. In this situation the infectious agent is on the _inside_ of you. And," he added quickly, seeing the look in Mal's eye, "the biogels are not meant to be used internally."

Mal started to cry. "I don't want to be sick! I don't feel good!" He buried his face against Trip's chest and Trip put his arms around him.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, buddy," Trip soothed him. "Look, Doc, are you sure about all this? How do you know a human flu bug is gonna affect him the same way?"

"I _did_ consider that, Mr. Tucker," Phlox answered patiently. "And I would like to keep Mal in Sickbay under observation for twenty-four hours, just in case." He gestured towards a bed at the back of the room, where Trip managed to transfer Mal without separating from him.

"Okay, Mal, you just lie down right here," Trip encouraged, trying to pry his fingers from his t-shirt.

"Influenza can be highly contagious," Phlox reminded them. "I'll need you to remain here as well, Commander. Assuming you two have been in close contact?"

Trip looked up from his attempts to detach Mal, which might ultimately require a welding torch or crowbar. "You think?" he said to Phlox shortly. "Look, I'll stay overnight, Doc—"

"Sleep in my bed, Trip," Mal pleaded.

"Only one person per biobed, those are the rules," Phlox countered firmly.

"—but I've got work tomorrow," Trip added. "If I'm not sick in the morning, I really need to be in Engineering."

"We'll see, Commander," was all the doctor would allow. "Now, if you please"—he patted a second biobed—"I need to get some accurate readings for Mal alone."

Trip sighed—as if he hadn't been trying to put some distance between himself and Mal this whole time. "Hey, buddy, did ya hear that?" he asked in an overly cheerful voice. "I'm gonna be spendin' the night here with ya! Won't that be fun?"

Mal wasn't buying it. "I don't feel good," he reminded Trip.

"I know you don't, buddy," Trip told him. "But you lay down on this bed here, and I'm gonna lay down on this other one right over here, okay? Come on, lay down."

Well, he was down at least, though if Phlox wanted Mal to stretch out and take advantage of all the biobed's sensors—it didn't look like that was going to happen any time soon. Trip figured Phlox could just iron out the Mal-ball on the bed if he wanted to. Trip himself flopped down on the second bed and took the blanket the doctor offered.

"I will be right over here in my officer, if either of you need anything," Phlox reminded them, dimming the lights.

"Thanks, Doc," Trip told him.

There was a long moment of quiet. But somehow Trip knew Mal wasn't asleep. "You feel better yet, buddy?"

The bundle of blankets twitched and sniffled, and Trip was surprised at the urge he felt to join Mal on the bed and curl up with him. "No, I feel horrible," Mal finally asserted.

"You mean that physically, or emotionally?" Trip asked. Sometimes Mal didn't bother to distinguish between the two.

"I don't want to make _you_ sick," Mal told him.

Ah. Emotionally, then. "Well, if I get sick…" Trip really couldn't think of any upside, any positive spin he could put on it. "Well, h—l, Mal, that's just the way it goes."

"The way it goes?" repeated Mal in confusion.

"Yup," Trip agreed. "We spend enough time together, share a cabin and food and a bed and a workplace—we're bound to share germs as well. So don't worry about it, okay?"

"I like sharing things with you," Mal remarked uncertainly.

"Yeah, well, don't _try_ to share the germs," Trip warned him. "But if it happens, it happens."

Mal seemed to think this over. "Okay."

"Good night, Mal."

"Good night, Trip."


End file.
